Happenstance
by Orsa
Summary: Set sometime during season two, Quinn, Rembrandt, Maximillion and Wade stumble into an Earth stuck in the Dark Ages. Here magic seems to be real and there are disturbing rumors of a being made of darkness. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1: An Awkward Landing

Sian pushed her trowel firmly into the earth, one hand pressed on top of the other. Her greying blouse was pushed up to the elbows, bunching furiously with the puffy handspun fabric. A simple brown bodice and skirt accompanied her 'work tunic' as she toiled in the woods. Indiscriminately placed smudges of dirt adorned her simple outfit and as one hand reached up to her forehead another was added to her pale face.

With careful fingers the young woman pulled a long white root from the cool earth. Gently shaking the clumps of soil she lay the precious plant in her carrying basket. A cold evening breeze surged briefly through the brushwood but Sian was still warm from searching and digging. Knowingly she reached for her shawl, perhaps she was not cold now, but the cool of the evening came of fast and it would not be long until she began to feel the chill.

Looking up at the setting sun Sian decided to call her foraging day at an end. Her basket was not as full as she would have liked, but a familiar fear began to pluck at the hair on the back of her neck. Another draft came, this time passing through her clothes. She pulled her shawl tight and picked up her things: it was definitely time to go.

Her journey home was not far but she walked with purpose down the narrow track through the trees. Soon she came upon a clearing and she felt her muscles relax. On the other side stood a small dwelling; haphazard pieces of wood, some found, others cut, bound together to form a small hut - Her home. Sian went to move forward, but something made her hesitate...

Energy brushed the edge of her senses... she could not hear it or see it, but she could *feel* it; a soft crackle of power tickling some part of her mind. A lead weight dropped in the pit of her stomach. _Is this it?_ She stood frozen with a deep fear. _Has it come for me? _She willed her legs to move but they would not. She wished for the feeling to subside, however it intensified to an almost unbearable degree.

The air before her fractured - a whirling twisting hole appeared, fringed with azure light. It grew in size, a great chasm pulling in on itself. Watery light danced across the patchy clearing casting eerie shadows from the boughs that surrounded her. She thought the opening would swallow her whole pulling her into the depths of Hell, but as she fell to her knees a dark shape formed in the space and thrust forward.

A great mass propelled her body to the ground, her head snapped backwards and connected with the hard winter's earth. The murmurings of strange words caressed her ears until Sian's world swarm with darkness and she slipped into oblivion.

Quinn looked down at the small form beneath him. Scrambling to his feet he narrowly missed Rembrandt as he hurled through the air. Concerned that the Professor might also land on the woman Quinn reached and scooped up her limp form and moved quickly to the side. Her head lolled backwards, her mouth ajar. The young physicist cursed under his breath as the gateway's electric light snapped out, returning the wooded area to the long shadowed copper of dusk.

Rembrandt was the next to recover, his great dislike of slide landings encouraged him to practice falling to the floor. Now adept at 'controlled tumbling' the singer more often than not rolled onto his feet. Wade and Arturo, however, were still wallowing on he floor with the all too familiar groans.

"She's hurt." Quinn lamented, "I hit her square on." The guilt was clear on his face.

Rembrandt closed in and had a quick inspection. "Looks like she's taken a bang to the head." He stated uncertainly. "It's not like you had much choice in the matter, let's just the best to make sure she's alright." Wade appeared at some point, she patted her short hair down as she looked around.

"There's a hut over there," She said matter-of-factly. "Let's get her in the warm and tend to her there. No point staying out in the cold."

"Not exactly a monument of engineering," Maximilion's voice boomed across the clearing. "More like a pile of sticks!" His aggravated tone permeated into the woods sending some birds fluttering into the sky. His bad mood from the previous Earth had clearly travelled with him.

"Professor!" Wade cried with an attempted at hushing him. "It's probably her home and I don't see anything else around do you?" The large Englishman shrugged and muttered something to himself, but Wade and the others were already making their way towards the small dwelling.

"As you have so cunningly pointed out, Miss Welles," Arturo's lecturing tone made the woman wince, "There is not much here. Perhaps some of us should go and look for civilisation - if there is any on this Earth!"

Rembrandt rolled his eyes, "Come on then, let's go before one of you has a full on tantrum." He tugged the Professor's elbow as others turned back to the shack.

Wade gently held the small door open as Quinn shifted his tall frame into the house. Inside was a single room with a small pallet for a bed, a chimney to one side and a metal basin in the corner. An array of plants were tied and hung on the walls and a collection of misty glassed jars stuffed with a variety of powders were strewn across the floor. One small window had been made next to the door but there was no glass to stop the cold, just a feeble pair of shutters.

The floor creaked in protest as Quinn lay his victim down on the bed space. She groaned as the bruise on her head met the thin pillow. Relief flooded him. A_t least she is alive, hopefully it's not too serious,_ he thought to himself. Having pulled a rough wool blanket over her meager frame Quinn turned to Wade, "What do we do now?"

Rubbing her own arms she looked about. "I'll have a look at her," She smiled sympathetically at her sliding companion. His remorse and concern spilled out of him, from the way he stood, to the small furrow of his brow. "Do you want to get the fire going? It's getting cold really quick." She looked to the door briefly, "I hope the others don't take too long."

As Quinn clomped around the room pulling the ill fitting door and shutters to, Wade sat down next to the woman and took a look at her head. There was no wound or blood as far as she could tell, but it was certainly sensitive to the touch. She hoped that a concussion was the worst of it. A thin clammy sheen had developed on her forehead so Wade grabbed a small scrap of cloth and gently dabbed at her skin, careful not to put pressure on the bruise.

A small yelp of success escaped Quinn's lips as he managed to get the fire to take hold. A small pile of kindling was now burning lightly, its flames licking at the larger more substantial chopped logs. The fire brought a welcome glow to the now darkening room but it's warm was yet to make much impact. Quinn stood by the fire looking across the room to Wade.

"Think she'll be alright?" His tone edged with hope.

"I reckon so. D'ya think she lives here all on her own?" She mused as she felt the unfortunate woman's temperature.

"I guess so," Quinn realised, there wasn't much room for anyone else. "Seems a little odd for a woman to live a lone in a forest." He hunkered down by the growing warmth, rubbing his hands together.

"I'm sure she was doing just fine before we came crashing into her world." Wade winced as Quinn's face sunk back with guilt. She had meant make a quip him always assuming women were helpless, but had missed the point. Chewing on her lip with regret she looked down. The ancient style of clothing puzzled her, but as she looked on the woman's body twisted and her eyelashes fluttered.

"I think she is coming around!" Wade reached out to comfort her, cooing gentle words of encouragement. Quinn snapped back to his feet in anticipation, but his height foiled him as his head connected with a low hanging pot. The resulting clang sent the physics student stumbling back toward the fire, cursing his own stupidity.

Wade would have laughed had their patient not cried out. The frail woman was sluggishly backing away from her, pushing herself into the corner of the room. Her eyes were still heavy but fixed on Quinn as he came to his own senses. A slur of syllables slipped out of her mouth, the tone drenched with panic. However nothing she said made any sense to either Wade or Quinn and as Quinn approached with apologies and open palms her state only worsened.

Wailing and slipping from the pallet the woman prostrated herself before Quinn, her body trembling.

"Nae, nae!" She cried, her slender fingers reaching towards Quinn's boots, "Parcho egus, parcho egus, pertoro..."


	2. Chapter 2: On First Name Terms

Rembrandt and the Professor picked their way through a thin trail in the woodlands. The former gathered his clothes at the front, muttering and complaining of the cold as they made slow pace to wherever it was they were heading.

"Good God, man!" Arturo boomed, "If I am to be stuck with you would you at least cease your infernal moaning!" He stopped and yanked angrily at a branch that had become snagged on his coat.

Rembrandt stopped and waggled his head. "Well we've been trudging down this path for fifteen minutes and I swear it's dropped below freezing." His voice was echoed by the swirling condensation of his breath. "It's almost completely dark and something tells me we're not going to find a seven-eleven around the corner!" The professor's response was to snort and plow forward with the teeth-chattering singer trailing behind in protest.

A strong wind cut across their way, causing the pair to pause a moment to regain their momentum. Rembrandt managed to catch up as his companion pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears. "Looks like the trees are thinning up ahead." Maximillion declared in the most positive manner since the Slide. Bustling forward he left Rembrandt at the rear once again.

The forest gave way to a set of bleak hills, rolling downward towards a cove that opened out on a vast body of water. The Bay was stirring wildly in the distance, crests and waves tossed about and then sank into a low mist that hung heavy across the horizon. There was little sign of civilisation save for the continuation of the path that pottered on and disappeared behind the rough vegetation and exposed rocks.

"I can hardly believe this is San Fransisco." Muttered Brown as he reached Arturo's side, a sentiment he had felt so many times since meeting his Sliding companions.

"Oh come now, it's not completely unheard of for temperature to drop this low, and we've been on colder worlds. At least it is not raining." The professor mused, bringing one thick hand up to his chin. "I doesn't seem like there is much this way... wait..."

As the sound of his voice was taken by the wind the wide white cloud that had obscured their view began to recede, revealing a rocky island in the waters. The dark shadow of a tall structure loomed into view as the vapours parted, painting a thick stone walled structure atop some savage looking cliffs; dim orange squares of light vainly permeated the fog.

"Uurrrrr..." Brown groaned between the clacking of his jaw, "I don't like the look of that. Is.. is that a castle?" His eyes followed the edge of a large square turret up to a set of thin pennants flailing rapidly in the blustery air.

"It certainly seems so. Looks like Alcatraz Island's strategic location has been utilised once again." The physicist's pensive tone replied.

"Well I'll be happy when we're a world away from that thing. Gives me the creeps." Rembrandt shuddered. "How long do we have till the next Slide?"

The Professors head snapped to glare at his friend with wide eyes. They both stood staring at each other for a moment, suspended in shared disbelief. Before separating from Quinn and Wade neither of them had thought to check the Timer. Without a word the pair turned on their heels and began to run back into the thick of the trees.

When consciousness returned to the concussed Sian the familiar scent of her home reassured her muddled mind. As her muscles relaxed her body worked on mending the damage. Slowly her senses began to return to her, a long with a thick ache in the back of her head. _That's right,_ the thoughts formed thinly, like a veil of smoke, _I hit my head when... _

A loud twang echoed through her ears and jolted her into an alerted state. Through groggy lenses and the half dark of dusk her eyes picked out the form of a figure, broad in shoulders and taller than most. It twisted with anger and cursed in a strange tongue, silhouetted against the burning red hearth.

"No!" She cried, "No!, Spare me!" Trembling she fell to the floor. Knowing now, that after all this time her defenses had failed, she had nothing left to fall back on. Years of fleeing, hiding, rebuilding and running had left her without means or mettle. "Spare me, please..." Sian's mind swam with anticipation of death as she quivered on the loosely lain floor of her home. She expected a great acclamation of victory, a roar of savage joy or the instant burning of power tearing through her body... but none came.

Only the soft creek of wood underfoot interrupted her pathetic sobs. She flinched as a pair of hands curled gently around her waist and began to pull her upwards. Daring not to look up, her wet and blurry eyes remained locked at the feet of her assailant, who was stepping backwards away from her. The figures aura was a cacophony; resonating so differently from anything she had felt before. So long had it been since she had studied the energies of another person that she barely trusted her own Sense... "Night Wraith"... she whispered softly, the words dry on her tongue.

Quinn looked up, his eyes narrow. "Did she just say my name?" He couldn't determine the words through the harsh whisper and her accent. Wade was desperately trying to comfort the woman who appeared to become strangely docile. Unsure of what to do with himself Quinn eased away hoping not to cause her any more distress.

"Hey, hey..." Said Wade soothingly. "We're not here to hurt you... " She had pulled the woman back on the small bed and she seemed to sit upright with little encouragement. Playing nurse the Slider inspected her patients head and checked her temperature.

"I don't think she understands us," contributed Wade, "And she's had quite a shock. Hopefully she'll be okay once she calms down, just don't make any loud or violent moves!"

"Don't worry!" He whispered, "but how do we explain that I'm not the bogeyman? I mean, I know I landed on her but how can we let her know it was an accident? Perhaps we should just leave..." As concerned as he was for her he could not help thinking that his presence was the last thing she needed.

"Well we need to wait for the others to get back - Hey!" Wade shouted suddenly, causing the woman to flinch again. Leaving her patient she crossed the room to Quinn and with forceful panic asked, "Have you checked the Timer?"

"Oh, crap." Quinn frantically clawed around inside his jacket and pulled out the handheld device. The red LED display was still counting down. "8 days, 5 hours, 15 minutes... we're okay." The pair both visibly sagged with relief. Quinn caught a look in Wade's eyes. It was somewhere between annoyance and a cheeky all-knowingness. Whatever she was thinking he simply couldn't fathom.

Turning away from each other and the now less important Timer, Quinn and Wade were presented with the pointed end of a sword which extended from the thin trembling arm of the now aggressively attentive young lady. Dark wavy hair hung limp around her face and smears of dirt, partially washed by Wade, still stained her cheeks and forehead. Her rough and dull coloured clothes added to her washed-out victimised guise and she stood defiant. Only her blue eyes, reflecting the fire, danced with internal resistance.

"Do you toy with me?" Sian forced the words from somewhere deep, beyond the pit of fear that was making her body quake. Her voice was not as strong as she liked, but as she looked upon her uninvited guests with steadily clearing vision her natural analytical skills where kicking into gear. They were clearly foreign to her land, perhaps her world - their energies buzzed with an weirdness that disturbed her, but they had natural form and had brought her back into her home... An age of being hounded left her suspicious to say the least and the memory of the dark figure in front of the fire still danced at the back of her thoughts, sending shivers of uneasiness through her body.

"How did you pass my wards? Are you not the Night Wraith?" The tip of the iron weapon punctured the air in demand of an answer. Irritation flooded her veins as they turned to talk to one another in their foreign tongue.

"There it is again!" Quinn exclaimed to his friend almost forgetting that they were being threatened. "She said Quinn I am sure of it!"

"It's not like it changes things a great deal. She still has the impaling device and all we have are excuses in the wrong language!" Wade raised her hands in slow surrender, wary of encouraging use of the medieval weapon.

"No'kwin Maellorm! Referom!"

"See!" Quinn responded, "she said '_No Quinn_'. I have no idea what May-lorm or the rest of it means but she definitely said my name." He smiled expectantly at the women as though his proclamation would solve everything.

"And it comforts you to ordered like a dog by someone holding a sword?" Wade half queried, half sneered.

Ignoring his companion Quinn attempted to converse with the woman. He gently explained who they were, what their names were and where they had come from, gesturing as well as he could manage. The woman looked on in confusion, but her sword arm was growing weary and the blade began to dip.

Sian was exhausted. Her head ached and she felt nausea creeping up her torso but willed it away. Her mind was desperately trying to make sense of the bizarre situation, however under the bombardment of the alien ambiance and the constant throbbing pain, progress was slow. Clearly language was an issue here. In her tongue 'No'Kwin' meant night, but could literally be translated as anti-light. What the strangers kept reiterating was 'Kwin', the man even pointed to himself and declared him thus. _Light?_ She thought, _Is this a trick?_ Something in her gut hinted that it wasn't but perhaps she was too wrung through to care. Whoever this 'Kwin' was he did not seem to be hostile.

"Kwin." She nervously acknowledged, with a nod toward the man. And to the woman. "Wayde" A nervous smile flickered over her face as she confirmed her name. Letting her short sword down to her side Sian gave way to the conclusion that this was not her Hunter. _What now?_ They had arrived at a stalemate that was cemented by their language barrier. What did they want? Where did they come from? And more importantly, when were they going to leave?

Sian was a woman of meager Ability. She had a keen Sense that had aided her flight from the true Night Wraith and her knowledge of herb-lore was vast but neither could help with her current predicament. The one trick she could use involved contact with the individual... but she was reluctant to try. Since being in hiding her involvement with other peopl had been sparing at best. With little training and next to no practice it would be a risk, not only for her subject but also to herself. Still, she could see no other venture, save for continuing to flap their arms at one another.

Calming herself, Sian lay the sword down on the floor. Slowly (and a unsteady as her head was still a little giddy) she moved forward and placed her palm on her chest. "Sian" She spoke her name simply so as to be clear. The pair of intruders smiled in understanding and were clearly happy that the weapon was away. Continuing forward Sian was almost amused to see their relief melt into anxiety as she encroached on the mans personal space. He began to inch away, awkwardly muttering something, however she soon had him backing up against a wall of her home.

Even though she was a head smaller than him her eyes stayed with his. She let herself take in some of his detail; the strange weave of his clothing, the scent of his skin, scarring on his upper lip and the strange adolescent manner of his hair. Then, with a gentle swiftness, she placed both her hands on his temples. For the first time in over 5 years Sian let her mind slip into anothers.


End file.
